


Roggers The [Aspiring] Rigger

by DeathjunkE



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bondage, Charity Auctions, F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, POV First Person, Rope Bondage, Secrets, steve likes rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking back on it wasn't really been anything big. I just remember being entranced at the image of Pauline tied to the train tracks. Her upper arms pressed against sides the rope. The rope was thick and white and her dress was dark so it all looked so stark. Her ankles were also tied together and she was squirming while this man with a completely ridiculous mustache stood over her.</p><p>It was so… so foreign, so different, so exciting. Unlike anything he'd ever seen before and so it managed to stick with me.</p><div class="center">
  <p>(-)</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Roggers The [Aspiring] Rigger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marienomad](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=marienomad).



> I'm sorry it took so long. Life and broken computers got in the way.

The first time I've ever seen a woman wrapped in ropes I had just turned ten years old. My mother had taken me to see the Perils of Pauline. It was an old movie even then; my father took her to see when they were dating.

We were in line and my mom was talking. I wasn't really paying too much attention. She had been getting nostalgic about how my father had brought her caramel corn hen they went to see it. I think it was the first film either of them had ever gone to see. She was always going on about how he had been different before the war. She always wanted me to think well of him; I don’t really remember him, I didn't back then either.

I had just been excited to go to a picture show. Money was tight and some days Mom drank tea while I ate the last of what ever it was we had. It was my birthday and she had set aside the money to take me.

Looking back on it wasn't really been anything big. I just remember being entranced at the image of Pauline tied to the train tracks. Her upper arms pressed against sides the rope. The rope was thick and white and her dress was dark so it all looked so stark. Her ankles were also tied together and she was squirming while this man with a completely ridiculous mustache stood over her.

It was so… so foreign, so different, so exciting. Unlike anything he'd ever seen before and so it managed to stick with me.

(-)

As much as Tony likes to tease, I was never actually a boy scout. Yes, I had wanted to join, but there just wasn't enough money and after school I worked.

I had been sickly before the serum. My mother always was paying so much for medicines, for school, for everything really. Back then, isn't like now women would make less than half of what men made, so even though my mother worked just as hard if not harder then the male nurses she made only a third of what they did. I did what I could to help. I ran errands, delivered packages, papers and helped the ladies in the tenements mind their children and chickens all for whatever they could spare.

But at the end of the day when the sun was setting, and Mom was cooking dinner I sat on the stoop with Bucky and listened to the stories of the boys who lived up the street. Bucky, charming son-of-a-gun he was, had managed to get a few of the boys to teach him and Steve what it was they learned. First it had been first aid, then it was camping, building fires and the like and finally it was knots.

The boy's troupe leader had given them lengths of rope to practice with, and it had been nothing for Bucky to find two more scraps of rope for us to learn too. So we watched what they did and copied it until we knew what they knew. There were so many knots; overhand, bowline, buntline, half hitch, figure eight, clove hitch reef knots, studding sails, sheep shanks, coin knots, cleat hitch and water knots. Wrapping, pulling, twisting…

The knots weren't what fascinated me though.  
I could not have cared less about them.  
It was about the rope.

The feel of it, the texture, how tight it could be, the marks it leaves when untied.  
The power of it really, I could hold someone, keep them in place just how I wanted with rope. And yeah, I know it doesn’t sound like anything special, but you know me now. The me from before— the scrawny sick kid who couldn’t get anyone to take him seriously let alone stay put.

The idea was intoxicating.

(-)

Have you ever seen those cartoons? Popeye.

It used to be a comic strip you know. I never liked them all that much but Buckey _loved_ them. He worked for a theater for a while, before he signed up for the service. He used to sneak me in to the projection room and we'd watch all these cartoons.

Olive Oyle always managed to get kidnapped and Bruno tied her up most of the time.

It always bothered me, you know? She didn't like him let alone love him and he was always carting her off while she screamed. It was …I sound so silly saying this, because I know it's just a cartoon, but it always seemed so violent. Kidnapping is exactly the Just the opposite of why you'd want to tie up a woman. It's not about carrying her off like a cave man, (even if it seems like that's the only thing that happens when women are tied).

It's about everything else. The connection, the intimacy, the trust, and the absolute eroticism of the whole tableau; two people, a contorted body, rope against flesh and the trust that could only be shared between two people who trusted each other.

(-)

When I was on the road doing that God forsaken bonds fundraiser shows. Never let anyone trick you into becoming their spokes person, it's awful. You'll feel like one of those dancing monkeys they've got in the circuses.

When I was on the road there were all these dames, dancers. They were lovely, horrible people most of them but they were lovely and they sang so they sold lots of tickets. To make sure the show ran smooth in every town we went to we kept the same stagehands and costume people.

There was a woman, Ainsley. She was colored… I don’t think you're supposed to used that word now, though. Any way she was a stagehand. She worked with the men who pulled the curtains and the backdrops. She let me draw her hands a few times; I still have the pictures in my sketchbooks. Her palms were rough and callused because she handled the ropes so much. She's help prepare them too. every time we went to a new theater if they had a different color curtain the ropes had to be dyed the same color so that no one would notice them, showman ship and what not. In the big theaters and the opera houses no one really notices, but in the little backwater towns where the local schoolhouse was the theater those little things make a difference.

Ainsley, I don’t know how she knew but she knew. She taught me how to tie so the ropes wouldn't tighten any more than I wanted them to, how to set up pulleys, and to rig things to be lifted off the ground with out them, how to secure ties so the rope won't slip. Then I watched her tie herself up.

It was amazing. She wrapped the ropes around her hips; thick wraps at the top and bottom before weaving another rope between like the zig zag of a drum. She connected the longest bit of rope to the front of the web around her hips and threw the other end over a thick tree branch and hoisted herself up a three feet above the ground. While I stared struck dumb at the sight she laughed in my face, then I laughed too.

She used to say it felt like flying…  
She had never been on a plane, and never would be either. That was as close to flying as she could get.

When she came down and untied herself she let me see the marks the ropes left on her hips. Even though she was dark and didn't mark easy like the fair skinned dancers there was the ropes' imprint clear as day.

It was beautiful and fleeting, gone in just five minutes.  
Her skin was back to being smooth, dark and even and even and you'd never know that there had been rope there.

(-)

“Tie her wrist to the head board Stevie!” Bucky crowed between sips of beer, “Had these little silk scarves too. And all I could think was you spent your ration coupons on this?”

I smiled wryly at Bucky. I knew his type. He liked his Dames leggy with olive skin and dark hair. Thick like the women in the pin ups that good Christian men disparaged in front of their wives and hoarded in shoe boxes or between the pages of their well worn novels.

And I could picture it clearly, her skin would be flushed and she would struggle and get nowhere because she was tied she was secured and she’d be entirely at his mercy. I drew nothing but those images in my head for weeks straight, I hope no one found that sketch book... Talk about awkward conversations.

(-)

“This is who you’ll be working with.” There is footage on each agent and prospective Avenger. Since you will be leading them, it’s best you know what they’re capable of.” Fury said as he handed me the tablet. THere were files, pages and pages to read. strengths, weaknesses, physicals, training results and some bits of recorded missions. I was diligent, reading and watching every scrap of information about the people i would be working with, knowing just who had your back meant life or death on missions.

Everything was fine until i watched the video clips of Agent Romanov’s interrogation. Who was interrogating who, i didn’t quite know, but the man who sneered at her while she sat tied to the chair was certainly giving up way too much information to be a professional.

Agent Romanov was stunning. Dark eyes, bright red hair and the grace of the most agile of fighters. She was tied with her hands to the posts of the chair and far from helpless. It was amazing —even erotic to see how she used her body to incapacitate the three men and escape.

When I met Agent Romanova I was astounded at how small and delicate her wrist were, dainty and feminine but just as dangerous as the rest of her I knew. The rest of the afternoon I found myself thinking of better ways to secure some one to a chair and avoided meeting Agent Romanov’s eyes, lest she somehow be able to tell what I was thinking.

(-)

The internet is a new and amazing thing. there is nothing you can’t find, from humorous animal and idiotic children jumping and climbing walls and women trussed up artfully in rope. There is many a name for it; Bondage. there are different styles too; western, Kinbaku and Shibari. There were so many pictures most of them beautiful women of all shapes, colors and sizes (and even the occasional man) tied in a myriad of ways.

In the privacy of my own apartment I looked at the pictures, clicked on the links and videos. There were tutorials and i watched entrance but i did dare do more. I wanted to tie women, I wanted to contort their bodies and hold them still. I wanted to hold them without touching them and I was entranced.

(-)

I hadn’t realized that there were places like this. Places that taught people how to tie up their signifigt others. It was a lage auditorium, and a hand ful of people and a variable mountain of rope. In every color in a multitude of fibers. Nylon, hemp, jute, paracord, cotton and mfp. there was braided twisted andit just semed like so much but the presenter just smiled and gave a rundown on the properties of each kind and how they were best used.

it’s amazing to thin that all of the ties i had seen on the internet were all with in my reach. A yound woman came up to me with an armload of rope, smiled and asked if i would be her practice partner.

Through the entire workshop we took turns tying one another. my face burning red any time i ran my fingers between the rope and her skin to gauge the tightness.

(-)

“Hey Cap,”

“Yes Tony?” I shrugged into my leather jacket and shrugged my bag onto my shoulder. It was a short walk to the Studio.

“Where do you disappear off to tuesday nights?”

“Nowhere special,” It was always the same question, and so I gave the same answer, “I’ve got plans.”

“plans! oh okay, i gotcha!” Tony smirked and wriggled his eyebrows and I was reminded fondly of Howard. “The Ladies like spontaneity, don’t become predictable. The muscles will only keep them interested for so long.”

I gave Tony a flat stare, because quite frankly i cant roll my eyes hard enough to do Tony’s ridiculousness justice. “Good night, Tony”

(-)

“Hi Steve!” Chloe, my usual rope partner, greeted me then turned to continue talked to... Clint Barton?

My eyes must have been the size of dinner plates because she glanced over Chloe’s should and full on smirked at me. That ass. I turned on my hell, planning on leaving and then finding someway to explain away my being here when i came chest to face with Natasha.

“Steve, Clint has been snatched away for the night. Will you be my partner?”

“Why are you two here?”

“Same reason as you.”

“No seriously, what are you two doing here and is anyone else here too?”

“No, just Clint and I. Tony had been talking to Clint about your disappearances since Bruce won’t give him the time of day and being the best at espionage...”

“so basically none of you can manage to mind your own business, is what you’re telling me.”

“Yспокойтесь,” The corners of her mouth twitched and Natasha patted my arm gently, “We just wanted to know what you were up to. We were worried, you are usually so open and honest. It was strange to see you so... secretive, we were worried.”

“Besides, It’s nice to know you’re just like the rest of us. We all have got our own kinks. I love wearing my heels during sex, Clint lies to be scratched up and well Tony... He acts like a brat in the hopes that Pepper will spank him. If you like tying up your dates who are we to judge?” Natasha shrugged and fingered the emerald green nylon rope she pulled from my bag while i was preoccupied, “I have heels this same color.”

**Author's Note:**

> Key/Guide:  
> Yспокойтесь:  
> Pronunciation; Uspokoytes, Meaning; Take it easy, relax, calm down
> 
> The Green rope:  
> http://www.erinhoudini.com/nylon/emerald-green-nylon-bondage-rope.jpg  
> If you are in the market for rope but from Erin (http://www.erinhoudini.com), Her stuff is the best rope ever, I use nothing else.
> 
> Natasha's Heels:  
> http://media-cache-lt0.pinterest.com/192/29/e0/e3/29e0e35c25450338a243a82e5edd8801.jpg)


End file.
